Chapter 3
Beth’s heartbeat began to rise as she pulled back the handle of the rowing machine. Her abs tightened and her legs were already burning from the effort, sweat trickling down her temples.
She used the handles of the rowing machine to propel herself forwards, her knees up near her chest, inhaling as she drew closer and watching the counter on the console.
Thoughts of galleries and flats fell from her head as her mind calmed and she focused entirely on the task at hand: her own steady breathing, the feeling of strength.
Through the large gym window that looked out into the Venetian lagoon, she could see the pale January sun, the shimmery golden light reflecting on the water.
Gosh it was beautiful. She ignored the fire in her lungs and the slight panic that came with it each and every time she worked out, knowing it was a normal part of the process as her body pushed harder and harder.
She told herself to breathe, to keep going.
Breathe.
Keep going.
The endorphins were beginning to kick in, sending positive thoughts into her head.
She was doing this. Pushing herself and achieving.
She loved this moment, edging her limits further and further away.
Improving. Getting stronger. Not that it was easy.
There was always a constant battle between the voice screaming, Stop it!
You’re going to die! And the one telling her to pull one more time, to hit another fifty yards.
‘Your fitness has improved so much,’ Francesca said, her long dark hair tied back into a high, bouncy ponytail. Even without make-up she was stunning, with her olive skin and Italian colouring. Her deep brown eyes crinkled as she smiled. ‘You should start rowing on the water now.’
‘Maybe,’ Beth replied in a sharp exhalation, working harder than she ever had before.
Francesca had befriended her as soon as she’d joined the gym attached to the rowing club.
She’d planned to row on the water, but seeing the fitness and ability of the others, she hadn’t felt confident enough to, sticking to the gym.
The tall, pretty Italian woman had spied her across the gym floor on her first nervous day when she’d arrived and started using one of the treadmills.
To be honest, Beth hated running and had found a natural affinity with the rowing machine.
But before she’d had the chance to move to a different piece of equipment, Cesca had landed next to her, welcoming her with lots of chatty conversation and cheering encouragement.
The two had hit it off instantly and become fast friends.
Cesca was always giving her top tips for making the most of Venice.
Not that Beth had followed many of them and she deeply regretted that now.
Beth gritted her teeth and kept going. There was only a short distance left.
She was nearly there. With a flood of relief, and a final endorphin hit, she hit her distance.
Allowing the handles to slide back into place, she relaxed, stretching her legs and pushing the seat back so she could ease the burning tightness in her quads. ‘Oh, thank God.’
Cesca giggled. ‘Why do we put ourselves through this, hey?’
‘I have no idea.’ Beth’s breath began to slow, letting her heart rate drop and her muscles recover. Instantly, thoughts of the day returned, and disappointment hit Beth again.
Cesca handed her a water bottle, and she took it gratefully, gulping mouthfuls of cold, refreshing water.
She normally felt better after a good row, and though her muscles didn’t feel tight with tension and sadness, it had been too much to expect today.
She unhooked her feet from the foot plates and stood, her legs like jelly as she precariously balanced and shook them out one at a time, stretching her quads and hamstrings.
‘Are you all right?’ Cesca asked. ‘I don’t normally see you at this time of day.’
They moved to the weight rack and Beth picked up some medium dumbbells, beginning her usual routine. Her arms were already protesting, but she ignored them, knowing she was growing stronger with every rep. In between breaths, Beth told Cesca about the morning.
‘Oh no! That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, Beth. What are you going to do?’
‘Honestly, right now, I have no idea.’ She put the weight down and placed her hands on her hips, taking in a deep breath. ‘To be honest, I’m still in shock. I – I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet.’
‘Let’s go to the café downstairs and talk. Are you nearly done?’
‘Nearly.’ Beth’s body felt deliciously tired.
Though she wasn’t anywhere near all right, she felt calmer somehow.
That physical feeling of achieving was filtering through to her mind, telling her that if she could do that, she could do anything and would somehow figure a way through the next few weeks, no matter what they looked like.
‘But if you’re busy, I understand. Please don’t—’
‘I’ll meet you in the café.’
‘Thank you. I – I could really use a friend right now.’
‘I’m just going to do some core work while you shower, but Beth … it will be all right.’ Cesca made her way over to the corner of the gym and began holding a plank, her muscles lean from working out and from her day job.
Francesca was a carpenter with a talent for interior design.
She’d done some work around the rowing club, fixing odd things here and there and from the type of person she was, Beth knew that her standards would be exacting.
She was something of a perfectionist when it came to her rowing form, and Beth could see that would extend to her work too.
Her friend’s kind words sent a lump into Beth’s throat as she moved away.
She’d connected with Cesca immediately and they’d enjoyed some great evenings out together.
Beth had loved hearing about her family and what it was like being the only girl with seven brothers.
As an only child, and not a particularly valued one, Beth had found it hard to comprehend.
But Cesca’s family sounded close, and Beth could imagine that could be both a good and bad thing.
After showering, Beth wandered to the small café situated on the floor between the gym above and the clubhouse below.
Like the gym, it had large floor-to-ceiling windows where they could watch the Venetian waters, rowers gliding through the calm surface.
The sunlight shone through the windows, warming the café, and tiny dust motes danced in the beams of light.
The actual boathouse, which housed the different-sized rowing boats and oars, was next door.
Beth rubbed her face, ensuring her moisturiser was soaking in, and grabbed them a table.
She’d already bought them both a chocolate and banana protein smoothie (their favourite post-workout snack) and she resisted the urge to tuck into hers.
She was starving now, even though she’d eaten that whole plate of baicoli at Giambattista’s.
Cesca joined her a few minutes later in jeans and a tight jumper that landed at her waist, revealing her flat stomach.
Beth looked down at her tracksuit bottoms and tattered hoodie, thinking she should have embraced Italian style by now.
If she wasn’t in her uniform of black trousers and a jumper, she was in workout gear or this. Not exactly tantalising.
‘Grazie,’ Cesca said as she sat down. ‘Now, what can I do to help?’
‘To be honest, I wish I knew,’ Beth replied. Though she’d felt a little better earlier, and the lingering endorphins were still softening the blow of the morning, she still had no idea what to do next. ‘But thank you for being here. I appreciate it.’
‘You’re a friend. We make time for friends and family here.’
‘How’re all yours?’
Most of Cesca’s brothers were married, and she had numerous nieces and nephews of various ages.
Her whole family lived in Murano, a small island not far from Venice, famous for glass-blowing.
Cesca was immensely proud of her family’s business and its heritage and, as a history fan herself, Beth could easily understand it.
Just as Cesca was telling her about sickness bugs, family dinners and one particular sister-in-law she wasn’t overly keen on, Beth’s eyes fell on the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and she almost choked on her smoothie as she did a comedy double take.
He was tall and broad-shouldered with floppy dark hair, a clean-shaven, chiselled jaw and ice-blue eyes.
They were so pale and yet so bright; Beth couldn’t stop looking at them.
Her heart almost matched the speed it had been when she had been rowing, and she checked her fitness watch, disturbed to see it was inching towards the red zone.
He was wearing shorts revealing bronzed skin, the perfect amount of dark hair on his legs and lots and lots of muscles.
She tried to stop her eyes wandering up over his toned torso, but she couldn’t, and when his eyes met hers he smiled and, embarrassed, she looked away.
He was like a character from the latest historical fiction she’d read: another book set in Venice with a swoon-worthy hero.
It was a welcome distraction after the morning.
‘I’ve not seen him before,’ Beth whispered to Cesca. ‘Is he new here? He must be because I would definitely have remembered him.’
‘Him?’ Cesca asked, astounded, pointing right at him. Beth immediately pushed her hand down, making Cesca giggle.
‘Stop it! He’ll know we’re talking about him. Do you recognise him?’